


Walk with the Shadows

by haunter_ielle



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Skyrim-Thieves Guild, thieves guild - Fandom
Genre: Brynjolf why are you such a scum sack, Did you know Brynjolf was looking for you, Drunken Shenanigans, Flashbacks, Glover told me a good deal about the place, It looks exactly as I pictured, Literally why is Tonilia the worst, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, POV Original Character, So this is Riften, They're a little light on coin, Thieves Guild, Time Skips, Vekel is just a little baby, Your pockets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haunter_ielle/pseuds/haunter_ielle
Summary: Two years after he becomes a Nightingale and helps avenge the Guild after being betrayed by one of their own, Messala struggles to move on. He must, though, if he wants to become the Guild Master, as Brynjolf has promised.





	1. You Forgot About the Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Messala and Sapphire run a job in Windhelm. Later, Messala gets wrapped up in Cistern shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi pals.
> 
> Here's something new that I've been struggling to write for like a million years.

            I playfully poked Sapphire’s side as she tried to pick the lock on Brunwulf Free-Winter’s front door, making several attempts to throw her game. She glared up at me from where she crouched on the ground, her blue eyes spitting hatred from beneath heavily lined lids. I laughed at how menacing she was being, throwing my hands up in innocent defense and turning back to stand guard.

There wasn’t much to see out in the streets of Windhelm, just a bunch of snow covering dirty stone ground. Being as it was the middle of the night, no one was out and about strolling the sidewalks. A few guards had sauntered by once or twice, but we were ultimately unseen by anyone but the gods. Sapph was taking an awfully long time, though, and I was growing impatient.

            “Thought you were supposed to be good at pickin’ locks, lassie.” I said quietly, not directly to her, but more to the wind.

            Sapphire grumbled below me, another lock pick breaking between her fingers. “Damnit!” came from her lips in a harsh whisper before she glared up at me again. “And I thought you were supposed to shut up and stand guard. Turns out we both disappoint.” She pulled another lockpick from the shoulder of her sleeveless armor. I never understood how she kept them in there, but it was always an impressive maneuver to watch.

            I clutched my chest in mock pain. “You’ve hurt me, Sapphire. Hurt me even though I’m already standin’ in the freezin’ cold.” I willed my shivering to stop. Damned Nords were inhuman to live in these blizzards, wearing no sleeves and no hats. “Bet it’s a lot warmer inside…”

            “Piss off, Messala.” Sapphire said, moving the pick in a very slow circle, listening for the mechanisms within the lock to line up correctly.

            I looked out again at the streets and then up at the sky. A somber blue streaked with brilliant shades of teal and speckled with white flecks that Nords called ‘stars’. I supposed most everyone called them stars, but my brother and I had always called them ‘eens’. When we were little, our father had told us stories about how the stars watched you and reported back to the gods, and if the gods weren’t pleased, they’d send a storm for you.

            I had laughed to myself, remembering the time my brother, not much younger than me but small in so many ways, had stolen an egg and a leek from a neighboring farm because he had a hankering. It had started pouring not an hour after, and he was so convinced that he’d upset the gods that he climbed onto the roof and begged for forgiveness. As nature would have it, it didn’t stop raining for about three days, flooding really, and he’d holed himself in his room searching every book he had for a way to make the gods forgive him.

            With a click, Sapphire grunted in muffled celebration as the door opened. I turned back to her, waiting for her to check inside and signal for me to follow when a clear way was verified.

            We wandered in, searching rooms and making sure the house was actually empty before we started our search for Vex. She usually just sent a location and an item, but this time, she’d been very specific to remind us that we needed to assure that we were alone after Rune nearly botched a job by waking a sleeping broad on a raid.

            Once we were certain we were by ourselves, Sapphire and I both stood upright and began to look around. I pulled out a desk drawer, rummaging through it and pushing cloth aside while I looked for the item.

            “What are we looking for again?” Sapphire asked me in a hushed voice.

            I furrowed my brow. “Some sort of horn, Vex said. Might be a drinkin’ horn.”

            “Drinking horn. Okay.” Sapphire nodded to me then left the room, headed toward the bedroom to the left of me. I continued ruffling the contents of the drawer, then decided it was wasted effort.

            I turned away from the dresser and caught sight of my face in the mirror hanging on the wall. As always, the first thing I caught sight of was dark burn scars surrounding my eyes. Stretching away from my green eyes like a cat’s print, they scattered in all directions, striping through my eyebrows and splattering against my cheekbones. They were a deep purple color, never having healed properly, but with my luck passing for Nordic warpaint unless you looked too close. They tapered off and became spacey, but ultimately reached my left ear, nearly covered by my short, black hair. My heart dropped, remembering that tragic day that dampened my mood every time I thought about it.

            Sapphire caught me off guard, wrapping her bare arms around my armored torso and resting her forehead against the back of my neck. The lassie was nearly as tall as me, and she stared at my reflection alongside me, her eyes level with my nose. “Thinking again?” she asked me, her voice pulling me back from my thoughts.

            I shrugged, running my hand over my growing beard. “No, just thought it might be time for a shave.”

            Sapphire smiled, knowing me all too well and seeing through the lie. “I think you look fine. Handsome, even.” At my smirk, her face blushed. “Don’t let it get to your head, though.”

            I reached toward her face his my right hand, brushing the side of her cheek with my fingertips. “Are you flirtin’ with me, lassie?”

            She grinned slyly. “I might be. Want me to stop?”

            “Oh, I’m not complainin’, mind you. Just lettin’ you know you’re on your way to a havin’ me kiss you, if you’re not careful.”

            Sapphire laughed, leaning over my shoulder to give me a quick kiss on the corner of my mouth before returning to our search. I beamed to myself, the love I had for her blossoming in my chest. She was a good girl, for a thief and a cut throat, but that’s exactly why I liked her. She had spunk and sass but such a good heart under that tough shell.

            I turned my attention back to job at hand, looking around for the horn. I searched around the living area, pulled out drawers and opened cabinets, but not until my eyes rested on the desk in the corner did I see the horn. It was gold, the moonlight catching the side and glinting off of my eyes.

            “Found it, Sapphire. Beauty was right in front of us.”

            Sapphire reemerged as I took the horn from its stand and tucked it into my satchel. She smiled to me, then nodded to the exit before we snuck out the way we came.

 

            Passing one of the many farms outside of Riften, I’d plucked a potato from the ground and was holding it in my palm as Sapph and I walked back to the Cistern together. I rubbed some of the sediment off with my thumb, then took a bite.

            Sapphire stared at me like I was crazy. “Are you eating a raw potato?”

            “Yeah.” I confirmed around the mouthful of starch.

            She blinked at me. “Why?”

            I shrugged, taking another bite. “I was hungry. You don’t eat when you’re hungry?”

            “I don’t eat dirty, raw potatoes when I’m hungry.” she said, rolling her eyes. “You couldn’t wait until we got home?”

            “Well, I didn’t want the rest of them to judge me for eatin’ a raw potato like _you_ are. Wasn’t just gonna hold it in my hand for the rest of the walk, now was I?”

            Sapphire laughed, but she still shook her head. “I meant a cooked potato, Messala.”

            I shrugged again, taking the final bite of my potato. “No difference between this one and a cooked one, lassie.”

            “One is cooked.” Sapphire countered.

            “Well, you got me there.” I said, wiping my hand on my armor. “A little dirt never hurt anybody, you know.”

            She smirked. “Never made anything taste better, either.”

I laughed, turning back to the road. We were nearing the stables, the smell of horse wafting through the air and into my nostrils, and I was suddenly smacked with a yearning to get absolutely smashed. I placed my hand over the horn in the satchel on my hip, reminded again that it was there, a pang of guilt punching me in the chest.

            “Do you ever wonder if what we take will be missed?” I asked her, looking over my shoulder toward her.

            She looked confused. “What do you mean?”

            “I mean…what if this horn was their prized possession or somethin’? What if they come home and their favorite thing is gone?”

            Sapphire nudged me with her elbow. “You’re not supposed to think about the feeling. Just the coin.”

            “Coin, yeah. Your right.”

            I was reminded, suddenly, of one of the first jobs I’d ever run for Bryn. Not the first, of course, that one being that I had to steal a ring and plant it on someone else in a busy market square. But the one that came just after. Of all of the things that had happened since I joined the guild, that was the one I felt the worst about.

            Sapphire had always been good at knowing exactly what I was feeling. Or, maybe I was just bad at concealing my emotions. She looped her arm through mine, cradling my elbow against her.

            “I know you’re still hurting, about Mercer. We all are, but no one more than you.” she said, scratching my forearm with her fingernails. “You don’t have to talk about it, Messala. I won’t ask you to, but I can see how much pain you’re in. So, you know, if you ever want to…”

            I smiled at her, trying to assure her that I was fine. “Thank you, lassie. I’ll be okay.”

            But in all honesty, I wasn’t really sure who I was lying to: her, or myself.

 

 

            “I’ve completed the sweep job.” I said to Vex, leaning against the barrel beside her. I handed her the drinking horn, which she turned over several times in her hands.

            “Am I supposed to be impressed?” she asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “Sapphire assisted you on a one-man-job. That’s not exactly admirable.”

            “We all know I’m no good at pickin’ locks.” I said, laughing. Vex was always so negative, and it had become comical to me.

            She shook her head. “I suppose you want your share, then.” She reached into her satchel, pulling a small pouch of gold out and dropping it in my open palm. “Here you go.”

            “Thank you.” I said, pushing myself off of the barrel. “Bryn and I are going to play cards later. Interested?”

            She snorted. “I have absolutely no interest in wasting my time with you and Brynjolf, Messala. Find someone else to play cards with.”

            I nodded to her as I walked away, smiling as I called over my shoulder. “I’ll deal you in, then.” I gave her a wink, and when she thought I wasn’t looking anymore, I saw Vex crack a smile. She played like she was the tough girl near constantly, but I knew it was just to ward off the people who were only interested in her looks. She was actually rather lonely, most of the time, so I took a moment to make her feel included every once in a while.

            I walked across the Flagon to the wardrobe in the back, pushing the false back panel out of my way and walking through to the other side. From there, I opened the door to the Cistern, inhaling deeply and filling my lungs with the scent of sweat and deceit.

            It was like home, the dark stone room. My bed wasn’t far from the entrance, in a corner off to the side, and I fell into it as soon as I approached. I relaxed, making myself comfortable and shutting my eyes.

            I tried, with a lot of effort that was usually wasted, not to think about my first year with the Guild. It had been a good year, for more reasons than one. I had come to know everyone in the organization, and I had made so many close friends, who had become more like family to me, and family was something I desperately craved. The Guild had done a lot of good to me; it gave me a job, enough coin to be absolutely content, and most importantly, it gave Sapphire, and I needed her more than I needed the coin.

            Of course, that first year brought a lot of bad with it, too. What I tried to avoiding the most was thinking about Mercer, a man I’d called my friend who had betrayed me in the worst of ways. It still haunted me, the images from that terrible night.

            The thieves who saw me enter my little, secluded space decided that right then would be a perfect time to strike up a conversation with me. Vipir dropped onto the mattress, slapping his knees as he began to speak. “How was the job, Messala?” Vipir was a nice lad. A little slow, but he’d always been nothing but friendly to me.

            I groaned, shoving him off of my bed and glaring. “It was a sweep job, Vipir. Nothin’ special.”

            Thrynn approached too, standing over me and staring down, his arms folded across his chest. “Got that coin you owe me?”

            I scowled. “Since when do I owe you coin?”

            “Since last week. I believe you said, ‘I’ll give ye forty septims if ye punch Cynric in his wee face, laddie.’”

            “I don’t sound like that.” I said. “Besides, I didn’t actually see it happen, so how can I know if you’re tellin’ the truth? Now leave me be.” I grumbled, rolling away from their direction.

            I heard Thrynn grunt. “Hey, Cyrnic!”

            Intrigued, I sat up, turning to face the tall Nord. Vipir shot me a glance, and I scratched my head, wondering if I should actually stop Thrynn rather than perpetuate him. I couldn’t lie, though, I sort of wanted Cynric punched in the face. I’d made the bet as a joke the week before, simply because I was drunk and Thrynn is a hilarious drunken companion. At nearly the same time, Cynric had said something passively crude to Sapphire that made my skin crawl, and though she shot me glance that said ‘it’s not a big deal’, it was to me.

            Cynric approached, “What’s the issue?” His cheek was sort of swollen and red, which could have indicated a punch had recently befallen him, but I couldn’t know for sure.

            “Had a question for you.” Thrynn said, an eyebrow raised. “You’re planning a party for a group of people, maybe five or six. You make a list of everything that has to be done. You budget the costs. You plan and set up, and the party finally begins. There are streamers, a ton of food, a bard in the corner playing the music the prettiest lady in the building likes. There are drinks and laughs and good times to be had. But you’ve forgotten one thing. What is it?”

            Cynric rolled his eyes. “I don’t feel like playing games, Thrynn. Just tell me.”

            After rolling his eyes and exhaling sharply, exasperated that Cynric wouldn’t humor him, Thrynn just shrugged. Then, he reared his right arm back and decked Cynric in the face. Cynric staggered back, his hand flying to his face and his hands flying out to catch himself on the table nearest to him. After a moment, he squared up, leveling himself with Thrynn and lowering his hands, balling them into fists at his side.

            “What the hell was that for?” Cynric spat, blood dribbling from his nose.

            Nonchalantly, Thrynn shrugged. “You forgot about the punch.”

            It took us a moment, but as we understood, my head whipped toward Vipir. We stared at each other for a split-second, then we erupted into explosive gales of laughter. I rolled off of my bed, clutching my torso as I lost my head and my dignity on the floor at their feet. Vipir, too, couldn’t contain the laughter he was producing, practically screaming as he dropped to his knees, the two of us causing a scene that drew a fair amount of attention toward our little gathering.

            As several other guild members approached to see what was so funny, Cynric’s face turned bright red in embarrassment. In a moment of pure rage, he swung at Thrynn, his closed fist connecting with the man’s face. They engaged in a full-blown fist fight, battling for both dominance and redemption, both having thoroughly mortified the other.

            The fight forced us to collect ourselves, and Vipir and I jumped into the mix to break up the scuffle. Vipir hopped on top of Cynric, holding him down while I slipped my hands under Thrynn’s armpits, dragging him away from the fight.

            Thrynn wiped blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Now, I thought it was funny.”

            They glared at each other for a moment, but Cynric sighed as Vipir released him. He shook his head and laughed to himself, spitting crimson onto the ground. “It was pretty funny, actually.” he concluded, standing and clapping Thrynn on the shoulder.

            “That’s the spirit!” I shouted, wrapping my arms around both of their shoulders. “Great show, laddies. You’ve made my evenin’.”

            Cynric shoved away from me, still laughing quietly as he walked away from the three of us. Once he was out of sight and the majority of the group dispersed, I left my arm around Thrynn’s shoulder. He held out his palm expectantly, his eyebrow raised.

            I laughed with exhaled breath, reaching into my satchel and dropping a coin pouch in his hand. “There’s more than forty in there.” I said. “You earned it.”

            “Appreciate it, Messala. Pleasure doing business.” he said with a grin, slapping my back and walking away, Vipir in tow.

            That left only Sapphire, who had tapered over with the others to watch the fight, but now stared at me with her arms folded across her chest. “Why is it that you’re always involved somehow?” she asked, an eyebrow raised.

            I shrugged, striding toward her. “Call it ‘excellent timing’.” I said, planting a kiss on her cheek. “I’ve got a card game to win, now. Come out to the Flagon if you want me to deal you in.”

            She shook her head, a smile on her face as she stared at me in admiration of how nonchalant I was all the time. “Have fun with your cards, Messala.”


	2. Two, six, nine, and jack.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brynjolf, Messala, and Marcurio have a drink at the Bee and Barb. Later, the thieves play an intense game of cards in the Ragged Flagon.

            “Damnit, Bryn! You bested me again!” I slammed my tankard down on the table, leaning back in my chair and tossing five more septims to Brynjolf. “You’d best to not keep takin’ my gold from me. I can become a very angry man.”

            Brynjolf laughed, sliding the septims off of the table and into his cupped hand before adding them to his, by now, heavy pocket. I knew it probably wasn’t smart to keep challenging him to the competition if I knew he would always win, but something about it was fun. Not like I didn’t have coin to spare, anyway.

            Marcurio leaned against his palm, which was propped up on his elbow against the table. “You never win, Messala. Why continue to challenge him?” Damned smart Imperial always knew what I was thinking somehow.

            I raised my brow, signaling for Talen-Jei to bring another round our way. “It’s not that about the winnin’, Marc. It’s about the rush of the competition.”

            Brynjolf laughed. “And the only rush you’re gettin’ is me rushin’ to put your coin in my pocket.”

            I shrugged, feeling a grin stretch across my face. “And a rush all the same.” I noted, earning a small laugh from the both of them as Talen-Jei set three tankards in front of us. Bryn and I immediately slugged several mouthfuls of the liquid fire down our gullet, but Marc didn’t even look at the mug.

            Swallowing the liquor, Brynjolf looked to Marc. “You’re not gonna drink that, lad?”

            Marc shook his head, his lips pursed. “I don’t drink anymore.”

            I let out a long groan that had been building up in my lungs. “She’s not comin’ back, Marc. And honestly, laddie, you’d be better to stop thinkin’ about her all together.”

            The chair beside me was pulled away from the table, followed shortly after by Sapphire adding herself to the conversation as she sat to my right. She rolled her eyes. “Please tell me he’s not going on again about—”

            “He is.” Brynjolf interrupted. “Not drinkin’ because he thinks the broad is coming back for him.”

            Marcurio looked around at us, his eyebrows mocking anger that was betrayed by eyes that glimmered with hurt. “She said she was coming back.”

            “Aye.” I said, shaking my head. “And you went all the way to Whiterun, walked into her home, and were greeted by her Nord lover. It’s been _years_. Stop fawnin’ after her, laddie. She’s not comin’ back.”

            Sapphire nudged me, then Brynjolf. “Are we talking about the same girl that snogged the two of you a few years ago?”

            “Oh, aye lass. That was us.” Brynjolf said with a smirk, nudging me with his foot under the table. It was a little joke the two of us shared about the lassie, since that was actually how we met each other. As Marc’s face fell, Bryn patted his back. “Don’t be down, lad.” He extended his arm, gesturing toward the room. “You could have any woman in this room, so why do you remain alone?”

            Marcurio just shrugged, and I slammed my fist against the table. “That settles it! We’re gonna get Marc a lassie! I’m makin’ it my mission.”

            Brynjolf raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have enough to do right now?”

            “I’m a busy man.” I said, leaning back against my chair. “I have to have more than one project goin’ at once or I lose my mind.”

            “Well,” Marcurio said, nodding his head from side to side. “If it will help you keep your sanity.” We all cheered for him, none louder than me. Marc had been one of my closest friends since the day I met him, and I was damned tired of him being sad all the time.

            “Now come on and drink.” Brynjolf said to him, nudging the tankard toward the wizard.

            Marc shook his head. “I really can’t. Honestly, nothing to do with…” He pushed the mug back to the center of the table. “I’m mean when I’m drunk. Ask Sapph.”

            Sapphire grunted, taking the unclaimed tankard for herself. “He’s thrown furniture at me, spit on me, called me just about every name in the book, placed bets with drunkards in the bar on whether or not he could get me, and then told everyone I was his lover—”

            “Aye now, laddie.” I said, a challenging tone in my voice as I wrapped my arm around Sapphire’s shoulders. “Best not to be tryin’ to snatch my lassie away from me.”

            Marcurio laughed, shaking his head. “No need to worry about that, Messala. She’s smitten with you. No competition.”

            “You’re damned right she is.” I said, smirking as Sapphire playfully slapped my arm. “Don’t be forgettin’ it soon.” Sapphire rested her head against my shoulder. I’d made light of the situation, but it did really bother me when she was objectified. She had a tragic past in the way of men, to say the least, and I saw the look that crossed her face whenever some drunkard made some crude remark to her. I’d lost my control before, beat the hell out of a few men who gave her a sideways glance, and I never felt any remorse for it.

            I knew, of course, that Marc was harmless. He was crazy about this Nord girl who probably didn’t even think twice about him, but consumed his thoughts near constantly. They weren’t meant to be, and that was something that Marcurio just didn’t understand. There was a huge difference between fate and fling, and he was misjudging his feelings for the girl with love.

            Things were different with me and Sapphire though, and nothing made me happier than that. She was the strongest and smartest and most beautiful woman I’d ever known and it didn’t take me long to want to marry the lassie. I had to play a careful game with her, though. She wore a tough face, but crack that surface and the pain she feels spills out like an undercooked yolk.

            “Tell you what, Marc.” I said, turning my attention away from the pretty lady on my arm. “I’ve got a job to run for Vex this week’s end. You should come with me.”

            Marc’s face lit up. It had been a long time since he and I had been out on a run together, and I suspected things weren’t in a good way for him at the time. There wasn’t much call for mercenaries as of recent, and Marc’s pockets were paying the price. Bryn and I had offered him plenty of jobs, but he’d been turning them down. For a laddie who spent the majority of his time with a bunch of thieves, he was really choosey about what he thought was immoral.

            “That actually sounds like a lot of fun, Messala. Where’s the job?”

            “Whiterun. Jorrvaskr.” Marc’s face fell significantly, so I gave him a playful shove. “I’m foolin’ with you, Marc. It’s in Solitude.”

            Bryn and Sapphire both giggled like mad as Marcurio shoved his hand out to smoosh my face. He snickered playfully, calling me a fair share of names he wouldn’t say in front of his mother.

            “Alright, I’ll go with you.”

 

 

            Delvin glared at me, his eyes narrow as he tried to read the expression on my face. I remained indifferent, one brow raised in intrigue as I saw the vein against his forehead palpitate with contemplation. He looked back down at the cards in his hand, adjusting two to a position he preferred, then looked back up at me. I watched as he pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, inhaling deeply before he spoke.

            “Messala.”

            I blinked. “Delvin.”

            After a moment more of indecision, he finally said what he wanted. “Four.”

            I smirked. “Go fish.”

            “Damnit!” he exclaimed, drawing another card from the stack in the center of the table. Though we’d begun with playing poker, the majority of us had become restless. Though we were thieves and we valued a challenge for money, we were rather competitive, and had quickly become violent with each other. After Dirge decked Etienne after he was accused of cheating, Vekel suggested we try a game that’s not quite as serious to take some of the edge off of the players.

            Though the majority of the Guild was in the Ragged Flagon drinking and watching us play, only five of us were still playing. Brynjolf was winning, something that wasn’t very surprising, followed after by me, Delvin, Rune, and then Dirge. Niruin was walking around us in slow laps, assuring that none of us were actually cheating.

            Rune’s turn came next. “Dirge.”

            The rugged blond looked up from his hand, scratching one of the scruffy muttonchops against the side of his face. “What?”

            “Seven.” With a groan, Dirge rolled his eyes and handed a seven to Rune.

            Vekel chuckled. “Alright, Rune is up to two pairs. Brynjolf is still leading with six. One more pair, and he wins it all.” By all, he meant the stack of about fifty gold in the center of the table. Rather high for Go Fish, but no one complained.

            I nodded. “Rune. How about an ace?”

            “Sorry, Messala.” he said, a sympathetic smile on his face. “Go fish.”

            I grumbled, mostly because Bryn and I had a side bet going. On top of the fifty septims, we’d agreed that if either of us won this round, the other would have to lick the underside of the bar top. Vekel was cleanly and everything, but I had no desire to lick the bottom of that thing. Norturnal only knows what could be festering underneath.

            As I drew my card, Vex came stomping through, an irritated look on her face as always. I lifted my mug to her. “Aye, Vex! Want me to deal you in next round?”

            “Piss off, Messala.” she grumbled, shoving past me to slap Delvin across the back of his bald head.

            The Breton man cried out, gripping the back of his head as he whipped around to face her. “What was that for?”

            “Delvin, that last shipment we heisted on the Cyrodiil frontier was worthless!” she yelled, smacking his head again.

            Delvin shrunk away from the blow, though not enough to escape it. He covered the back of his head with his hand. “That’s impossible!” he claimed. “I distinctly heard that lout in the tavern say it was a full shipment of furs. They should be worth a fortune.”

            Vex set her jaw, crossing her arms and setting her feet. We all easily recognized this stance as Vex’s ‘I’m about to destroy you’ stance, and we paid close attention.

            She huffed. “You idiot. He said ‘firs’, not ‘furs’. It was a damn logging caravan!”

            The entire room erupted into laughter, none louder than Brynjolf’s. The man nearly fell out of his chair, that sight actually funnier than Delvin’s misunderstanding.

            Vex’s glare darted back and forth between me and Brynjolf. “Are either of you going to do anything?”

            I scratched the scruff forming on my chin. “It’s not Delvin’s fault he was dropped on his head when he was a wee boy.” I offered. “You should have known better than to just do whatever the laddie said.”

            “Hey now, Messala.” Delvin said, his face bright red in embarrassment. “Don’t ya think she’s bein’ a little rough with me, here?”

            I shrugged, looking over to Brynjolf. “Replenish what it cost to pull off that heist, and she might ease off.”

            Bryn nodded. “Aye, lad. Only seems fair.”

            Vex seemed satisfied with that, but Delvin grunted in exasperation. “Come on now, boys. It’s not my fault, really. Anyone could have made the same mistake.” He pointed up at Vex. “She’s just pickin’ on me ‘cause she thinks I’m good lookin’.”

            Her lip curled in disgust, shaking her head as she looked down at the cards in Delvin’s hand. “Two, six, nine, and jack.” she stated simply, walking away from the table and toward Tonilia.

            Delvin shouted in protest, but Brynjolf grinned. His turn had come around, and I knew that smirk meant he needed one of those cards. I tossed my hand on the table, folding my arms across my chest.

            “I’ll take that nine, Delvin.” Brynjolf said, sliding the card toward him and setting it with the nine of his own.

            Vekel shrugged. “We have a winner, then.” The group around us cheered, but I only scowled as Brynjolf smirked at me.

            “Hope your palette is clean, lad.” Bryn said to me, raising an eyebrow. “Your bar top awaits.” Everyone else had continued with their conversations, turning away from us.

            I grumbled as I stood, pushing away from my chair and walking toward Vekel’s counter. I squatted behind it, tilting my head back and licking the underside of the surface. I stood again, my face wrinkling in disgust as I moved back toward Brynjolf, who had also stood from his chair to watch the action.

            “How was it?” he asked, clapping me on the back.

            I stuck my tongue out. “Tasted like moldy wood and spilt liquor.” I said, shaking my head.

            Bryn laughed, then handed his winnings to Vekel. “This should cover more drinks for all of them, Vekel. Messala and I have some business to attend to in the Cistern, and if you could occupy them, it would be appreciated.” Brynjolf handed Vekel another satchel of coins, sliding it toward him casually.

            Vekel furrowed his brow, pursing his lips and causing his dimples to pop up. “If it’s that important, Brynjolf, I’ll occupy them.”

            “I appreciate it, lad.” Bryn concluded, and he left his hand on my shoulder as he guided me toward the door to the Cistern.

            Brynjolf rarely acted like this, and it sparked some concerns. I remained silent until we were out of earshot, stepping quietly through the false back panel and into the dark hallway beyond.

            “Somethin’ wrong, Bryn?”

            He looked over his shoulder at me. “Not really, lad. I just found somethin’ rather interestin’, and it’s just not for everyone’s ears.”

            I furrowed my brow. “You paid Vekel fifty septims to show me some doodad in the Cistern?”

            Bryn snorted, pushing the door to the Cistern open. “No. I paid Vekel sixty-four septims to show you some doodad in the Cistern.”

            “An expensive doodad.” I retorted, rolling my eyes. I followed Brynjolf quietly across the bridge in the center of the room to the desk in the back that belonged to the Guild Master. Though we didn’t have one currently, Bryn and I were both acting as Guild Seconds, and so we shared the responsibility of going through the contents of the desk after Mercer’s betrayal was exposed.

            I felt my heart drop as I watched Brynjolf rummage haphazardly through the drawer on the top left, sliding papers around to search for something unknown. Even after nearly three years, it still hurt me to think about Mercer.

            I shouldn’t have been so upset about it. I didn’t want to be. The fact was simple: Mercer had left me for dead that night in the Snowveil Sanctum, and if not for Karliah, I would have died down there. My bones would have been forgotten forever, just as Gallus’ had to everyone but Karliah. That fact alone was painful enough, that the Guild Master could so easily kill two people who trusted and depended on him.

            What hurt the most though, and what I was most embarrassed about, was that Mercer Frey was my friend. From the moment we met, we had so much in common: our snarky attitudes, our dark humor, even our fighting styles were exactly the same. The majority of my down time, that wasn’t spent with Marcurio or Brynjolf, was spent talking smack about clients with Mercer, or playing Rummy when neither of us could sleep. He was as much a brother to me as Brynjolf was. Or so I thought.

            A voice brought me away from my thoughts, both mine and Bryn’s heads snapping in the direction of the sound. It came from the training room in the back of the Cistern, just barely out of sight from the desk we stood at, but not out of earshot.

            The sound was hushed, the man’s voice, but when a woman responded, I immediately recognized it as Sapphire’s. I felt my head jerk back, confused at why she was even here. I had thought she was in the Bee and Barb, not interested in playing cards in the Flagon, but she must have returned while we were all away from the Cistern. What alarmed me was not that she was back without my knowing, but that tone in her voice was irritation.

            Offering Brynjolf a glance to convey my intrigue, I walked toward the sound of her voice. As I approached, the voices became audible, and I could make out what they were saying.

            “Anything I can help you with?” Vipir asked, and I could hear his brow raising suggestively. “Not like you to train down here all by yourself.”

            “I believe it’s entirely like me, Vipir.” Sapphire offered, likely not even looking up from the lock she was practicing with. She frequently spent her evenings hunched over the practice chests in the back room, striving to become a master at lock picking. “I prefer to be alone, if you don’t mind. It’s hard to concentrate with you yapping in my ear.”

            Vipir snorted. “I’m hardly yapping. Just wondering why you’re not out with the others enjoying the evening.”

            “I could ask you the same thing.” she countered, the exasperation evident in her voice. That alone was making me angry. Sapphire desired a lot of time to spend by herself, which I knew was because she had issues trusting people and letting them near her. Vipir may not have known her reasons like I did, but he did know she didn’t like to be bothered when she was training.

            “I had no interest in playing Go Fish with them. Something you and I have in common, it would seem.” He laughed. “We seem to have a lot in common. So Sapphire, is there anything I can do for you? Or more to the point… _to_ you?”

            I felt heat rising in my chest as I listened, anger building inside of me that I struggled to suppress. Sapphire, though, just laughed. “Vipir ‘the Fleet’. The only man who’s foolish enough to name himself after his bedroom prowess.” I heard her lockpick snap. “There is something you can do for me. Get out of my face.”

            “You stupid cow!” Vipir said. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” I heard him turn on his heel, moving to exit the room.

            Unable to control it, I picked up my pace and closed the distance between myself and the room they were conversing in. Vipir, unsuspecting of the fact that I was listening, walked right into me, and didn’t have a moment to anticipate the fist I hurled toward his face.

            He did have a moment to react, however, staggering back and into the wall. I watched the blood trickle away from his nose, just before I sprang toward him again. Gripping the back of his head, I drove my fist into his face two times before he blocked the blow, shoving me away from him. I stumbled back far enough for him to bend low and tackle me.

            We both hit the ground of the training room, struggling to achieve dominance over the other. Vipir had it, at first, straddling over me and pounding against my face. I felt my teeth rattle as he decked my jaw, tasted the metallic crimson that likely stained my teeth. I lifted a closed hand, connecting with his left ear and disorienting him enough to shove him away.

            Having the upper hand again, I loomed over Vipir, slamming my fist into his face again and again. I heard Sapphire yelling at me, telling me to stop, but I couldn’t. The beating only ceased when Brynjolf gripped me around the chest, pulling me away from Vipir and dragging me across the room.

            I writhed, the anger in my bones aching as it pulsated under my skin. Brynjolf forced me to stand. “Stop, Messala. That’s enough.” he muttered. “He’s had enough.”

            Panting in exhaustion, I glared at Vipir as he stood from the ground, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “If I ever hear you speakin’ to her like that again, you’ll get worse than a beatin’. Is that understood?”

            Vipir hesitated, but he nodded. “Of course, Messala. I apologize.” he turned. “To you too, Sapphire.”

            She just nodded, and Brynjolf spoke from beside me. “It’s not wise to irritate the men who oversee what jobs you receive, lad.”

            “Understood, Brynjolf.” Vipir muttered, leaving the room with his nose pinched between his fingers to stop the blood flow.

            Once we were sure Vipir was out of earshot, Brynjolf smacked the back of my head. “Are you stupid, Messala?”

            I winced at the blow, but I just laughed, wiping blood away from my mouth. “I guess I am.”

            Sapphire moved toward me, lifting her hand to wipe blood off of my face with her fingertips. “I don’t need you to defend me, Messala.”

            I relaxed, then, looking down at her. She wore such worry in her brow, so much sadness. I hated seeing it, almost as much as I hated causing it. “I know, Sapph. I’m sorry.”

            She sighed, smudging the crimson against my chin away with her thumb. “What am I supposed to do with you, now that your face is all busted up?”

            Bryn laughed quietly behind us. “Doesn’t make him look any uglier, so that’s good.”

            Sapphire smirked. “It’s actually a bit of an improvement.”

            I snorted, dabbing my mouth with my wrist. “Aye, well, at least there’s that.”


	3. Mustache Boy and the Scum Sack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brynjolf planned a Lad's Trip for Messala and Marcurio, hoping to take their minds off of the bad that's happened in the past two years.

            I was startled from sleep as another person made themselves comfortable in my bed. I bolted upright, confused as hell as I was pushed to the other side of my bed to make room for the dark figure. I blinked several times to try to reorient my sight, which wasn’t the best to begin with, only to stare down at Brynjolf, who had his arms folded behind his head and was staring past me at the ceiling of the Cistern.

            “What the hell are you doin’, Bryn?” I asked, my voice groggy.

            Brynjolf laughed quietly. “Keep your voice down, lad. Wouldn’t want to wake anyone important, now would we?”

            I laid back beside him, staring up at the roof the same as he did. “I hope _this_ is important. You woke me out of a dead sleep.”

            Bryn turned toward me, staring at me with a look that was both playful and dead serious. “Do you think Wujeeta is hot?”

            I choked on laughter. “Wujeeta? You mean the lass who holes herself in the Fishery basement and does skooma?”

            “Aye.”

            I decided then that he wasn’t joking. I ran my hands over my face. “I mean, that sort of depends on your type.”

            He raised his eyebrows. “What’s your type then, Messala?”

            “I don’t know.” I said, blinking twice. “I like dark haired lassies with pretty eyes. Lassies named Sapphire, to be more specific.” I turned back toward him. “Do you even have a type?”

            “ _Women_ are my type in general.” he responded. “You didn’t answer the question. Do you think Wujeeta is hot?”

            I sighed. “She’s not my type, Bryn.”

            “Do you think she’d sleep with me?”

            I rolled my eyes. “Is there anyone you _can’t_ get to sleep with you?”

            Brynjolf shrugged. “You have a point.”

            “Is that the only thing you needed?” I asked. “To know if Wujeeta is hot.”

            “Of course not.” Bryn said, sitting up and lugging himself out of my bed. “I have a bit of an errand to preform, and I could use an extra pair of hands.” He turned around to point at me. “Meet me in the graveyard in six minutes and thirty-two seconds. Not a moment after.”

            With that, Bryn stalked away, leaving me in the dark and silent corner of the Cistern I resided in. I sat up, grumbling profanities under my breath as I pulled my armor on.

            Brynjolf frequently woke me in the middle of the night to go on little missions with him. Sometimes it was a job, sometimes it was an adventure. Either way, it always ended up being a good time. He never gave any forewarning, though, which I only found mildly irritating. That was the best way I could describe most of the things Brynjolf did: mildly irritating.

            After I buckled my boots and packed a few of the essentials, I tiptoed over to Sapphire’s bed. I crouched down beside her, shaking her gently to interrupt whatever she was dreaming about. She rolled toward me, her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. Even half asleep and exhausted, the lassie was beautiful.

            Sapphire blinked at me. “Hi.”

            I smirked. “Fancy meetin’ a pretty lassie like you down here in the dark.”

            Sapphire’s cheeks blushed, but she rolled her eyes. “You’re very funny, Messala. What do you want?”

            I pushed some of her hair away from her forehead. “Bryn’s stealin’ me away. Not sure how long I’ll be gone.”

            She nodded, shutting her eyes again. “Don’t die, or anything.”

            “I’ll try.” I said, kissing her forehead before I stood and headed toward the ladder leading out of the Cistern. Though she probably thought I didn’t catch it, I saw her smile as I left her.

            I climbed out of the Cistern and into the hidden entryway, disguised as a coffin in the graveyard of Riften. I pulled the chain, which slid the coffin’s lid out of the way and allowed me to step into Riften’s muggy morning air.

            Brynjolf stood in the frame of the entryway, looking out at the graveyard as he leaned against the stone side. After putting the coffin back in place, I approached him.

            “Six minutes and fifty-two seconds.” he mumbled, taking a bite of an apple and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

            “So sorry to keep you waitin’.” I said, rolling my eyes. “Where are you takin’ me now?”

            Brynjolf released a long exhale as he chewed his apple. “I planned a Lad’s Trip.”

            I snorted. “A what?”

            “A Lad’s Trip.” Brynjolf repeated. “A trip for the lads.”

            “You’re takin’ me on a vacation?” I asked, batting my eyelashes. “Are you goin’ to propose marriage on the edge of some snowy cliff, overlooking Skyrim’s beautiful sunset?”

            Brynjolf stopped chewing for a moment, glaring down at me with a sly smile. “I’ll throw you off of a cliff, if you’d prefer.”

            “I might.” I said, taking his apple and walking out of the graveyard. As I took a bite, I asked, “What inspired you to plan a Lad’s Trip?”

            Brynjolf chuckled quietly. “You’ve been worked up.”

            “No I haven’t.” I argued, taking the final bite of the apple and tossing it into the bushes.

            “You beat the hell out of Vipir a few days ago.” Bryn said with a bit of good humor.

            I grunted. “He deserved it.”

            “Entirely true.” Brynjolf offered, placing his hand on my shoulder. “And yet not entirely you.”

            “What are you gettin’ at?” I asked, grinning as Brynjolf guided me toward the Bee and Barb.

            “It’s not like you to wail on someone.”

            “It’s not the first time I’ve given someone a beatin’ for talkin’ to Sapphire like that, and it won’t be the last.” I countered.

            Brynjolf nodded. “I know that. But it’s not like you to wail on a member of the Guild.” He stopped me in the vacant street of Riften, just before the bridge. “You’re upset about Mercer, and I know that. The whole damned Guild knows that, but no one more than me. Now listen to me, Messala. You’re like a brother to me, and I won’t sit idly by and watch you destroy yourself. You drink too much, you hardly sleep, and I don’t think you’ve said Mercer’s name once since—”

            “I know.” I interrupted. “I know that.”

            Brynjolf nodded, looking down at me with a concern in his eyes I’d never seen before. “Then you’re goin’ on the Lad’s Trip. I’m takin’ you and Marc to Redwater Den, and we’re goin’ to have a damned good time.”

            I sighed, patting Bryn on the back. He was a good man deep down, and what he’d said was true. We were brothers now, he and I, and I knew he was just looking out for me. And truth be told, I needed some time away from the Guild. Living in the Cistern, which had really become a tomb of Mercer’s things, was wearing heavily on my heart.

            I raised an eyebrow. “Alright, you can take me and Marc on a trip. I have no idea where Redwater Den is, though, so be prepared to guide us.”

            “Wouldn’t have it any other way, lad.” Brynjolf said, leading the way across the bridge and into the Bee and Barb.

 

Inside, Talen-Jei was awake and sweeping, but the rest of the tavern was deserted. I inclined my head slightly when I gained Talen-Jei’s attention. “Aye, Talen.” I called quietly. “Do you mind if we steal Marc away from you for a few days?”

            Talen-Jei laughed. “Go right ahead. You’d be doing me a favor.” He nodded toward Marc’s room, and we entered quietly.

            When we were both standing over Marcurio’s sleeping body, Brynjolf pulled a flask from his pack, took a long swig, then spit some of the liquor up into the air to let it rain down on Marc’s face. When it didn’t wake him, he repeated the action, spitting a little bit more into the air to shower on him.

            Marc woke that time, sitting up and wiping the liquid off of his face with his bare hand. “Agh! What the hell?”

            Bryn and I snickered. “Come on, then.” Bryn said. “We’re goin’ on a Lad’s Trip.”

            Marc blinked. “A what?”

            “A Lad’s Trip!” I explained. “Bryn’s takin’ us out on an adventure.”

            “Why?” Marc asked, slightly less than enthused.

            “Because Mustache Boy is depressed.” Brynjolf explained. I instantly felt a pang of sadness at the nickname, but it was quickly replaced by annoyance.

            “Don’t call me that.” I said, raising my hand to touch the hair on my upper lip.

            Bryn shrugged. “Shave.”

            “No.”

            “Deal with it.” He turned back to Marc. “Come on, lad. Get up.” He reached into his satchel again. “Look, I even got you a gift.”

            “You what?” Marc asked, finally awake.

            Brynjolf pulled out a pair of trousers, holding them out to Marc and doing a funny little dance. “I got you some pants! So you don’t have to wear that little dress.”

            I let out a wild laugh, which satisfied Bryn but displeased Marc. He furrowed his brow. “These are Robes of Destruction. It’s not a dress.”

            “Are you wearing pants under that?” I asked, pointing to the robes he was gesturing to.

            Marc furrowed his brow. “Well, not pants. They’re…manly tights. But that doesn’t mean—”

            “It’s a dress. If there’s no pants, it’s a dress.” Bryn said.

            “Aye, laddie.” I added. “A wizard’s dress, but a dress just the same.”

            “It’s not a dress!” Marcurio said with a laugh. He rolled his eyes as he pulled himself out of bed, bending over to pack a few things. “Where are you taking us?”

            Bryn was beaming. “Redwater Den.”

            “Where the hell is that?” Marc asked, tossing a pack over his shoulder and tying his hair back in its usual loose ponytail.

            “It’s about a half hour’s walk from here.” Brynjolf explained. “We’ll do a little adventuring before tonight, and then at nightfall, we’ll have some real fun.”

            Marc and I both stared at Bryn, then Marc turned to me. He gave me a look that asked, ‘Are we really doing this?’ I simply shrugged, and then so did Marcurio.

            “Alright.” he said. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

 

 

            I dropped to the ground, flopping onto my back and staring up at the sky. I folded my arms behind my head, enjoying a moment of rest before Marcurio and Brynjolf loomed over me.

            “What are you doing?” Marc asked, his face covered in little beads of sweat.

            I sighed, shutting my eyes. “We’ve been walking for three hours. Bryn is lost. We’re resting.”

            “I’m not…lost.” Brynjolf said, staring at the map in his hands. “I just…took a wrong turn.”

            Marcurio snatched the map from his hands, looking at it for only a moment before he released a loud groan. “Brynjolf! You’ve got the map upside down!”

            Brynjolf stared at it for a moment, then he snickered. “Oh.”

            Marc and I screamed, loud screams of utter exhaustion. Marc lowered himself to the ground on one side of me, and Brynjolf on the other. We all laid in utter silence for a long time, staring up at the sky.

            After a while in the quiet, I turned to Bryn. “You know he can’t read, right?”

            “Aye.”

            “So how come the man who can’t read figured out the map was upside down, but you couldn’t?”

            Brynjolf shrugged. “If only I were a better navigator. Maybe then we wouldn’t have ended up here. In the middle of the woods.” He sat up and raised himself to his feet, outstretching his arms and looking around. “No idea where we could possibly be.”

            I narrowed my eyes, exchanging a curious glance with Marcurio as we propped ourselves up on our elbows, watching as Bryn continued to speak, though his voice transitioned to a higher pitched, girl’s voice.

            “Oh, please help us!” he said, moving a patch of leaves and sticks on the ground. He reached into the hole beneath and pulled out a case of Black-Briar mead. “Oh, if only Brynjolf hadn’t gotten us lost. Then we wouldn’t be stuck with this case of liquor and no one to bother us.”

            I snorted as Bryn walked back to us, returning to his spot to the left of me and distributing mead to each of us. I shook my head as I opened the bottle. “So, we’re not lost.”

            Brynjolf raised an eyebrow. “The map wasn’t upside down.”

            Bryn and I erupted with laughter, but Marcurio just grumbled several streams of profanities. “Well, where are we then?”

            Brynjolf pointed behind us. “Our destination is three minutes that way.”

            Marc stared across me at Brynjolf. “And we’ve been walking in circles because…”

            I laughed again. “Because it’s a Lad’s Trip.” I guessed. “It’s not an adventure if Bryn doesn’t screw with us a little.”

            “Lad’s Trip!” Brynjolf echoed, taking a long swig of his mead. Then he raised his eyebrows. “Marc. I’ve got a question for you.”

            “Okay.”

            “You know Wujeeta, right?”

            I turned to Marc. “Don’t answer that.”

            Marcurio narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I know Wujeeta.”

            Brynjolf smirked. “Do you think she’s hot?”

            “No.” Marc said, rather matter-of-factly.

            “Why not?”

            Marc glared, his upper lip curling slightly. “Have you…actually looked at her?”

            “That’s racist, Marc.” Brynjolf said, furrowing his brow in mock disapproval.

            I laughed, mainly at how offended Marcurio was. “It has nothing to do with race. She’s thin and shriveled and her voice is too hoarse. Not very feminine.”

            “So your type is ‘feminine’, then?” Bryn asked, opening another bottle of mead.

            I swallowed a mouthful from my own bottle. “Don’t answer that either.”

            Marc ignored me. “I’m attracted to feminine women, yes.”

            “You spent nearly a year in the company of a woman who rarely washed, spent days at a time in the woods huntin’, and punched you in the face once.” Brynjolf countered. “Plus, she snogged me _and_ Messala before she fancied you. Both of us. Same night. That’s feminine to you?”

            Marc laughed. “She was very feminine when she was…not hunting. She liked to read and tell stories, and she had nice hair, and—”

            “Ask Brynjolf what his type his.” I interrupted.

            “I don’t have to ask to know what his type is.” Marcurio said simply. “Do _you_ think Wujeeta is hot?”

            I snorted. “I think she’s ungrateful.”

            “What does that mean?” Brynjolf asked as he and Marc both laughed.

            “She whined and whined about bein’ addicted to skooma, so I go out and buy the lassie four potions of healin’, and now, she tells me to get out of the Fishery any time I’m in there.”

            Marc nudged me. “You only go to the fishery to steal stuff.”

            “Yeah, well.” I wiggled to a more comfortable position. “Still ungrateful.”

            Brynjolf stood then, stretching his arms and tossing his bottle into the brush. “Alright, lads. It’s about time to get goin’.”

            Marc and I stood too, following after Brynjolf through the woods. Marc took my bottle from me before I could toss it into the bushes as Bryn did. He’d been hard on all of us about recycling recently, and he stopped to pick up Brynjolf’s discarded bottle too.

            I jogged to catch up to Brynjolf, slinging my arm around his shoulder. “So, what is Redwater Den, exactly? You’ve dragged us all the way out here, yet you’ve neglected to tell us what it is we’re doin’.”

            “I’m also curious.” Marcurio added, close behind us.

            Brynjolf laughed to himself. “It’s a surprise. No fun if I tell you.” He pointed ahead of us. “See for yourselves.”

            All that was in my line of sight was a rundown shack. I furrowed my brow. “Is that it, laddie?”

            “Aye.” Bryn responded, patting my back and treading forward.

            I hung back, closing the bit of distance between me and Marc. “Do you trust this?” he asked me, his tone calm but his eyes unsure.

            “I trust Bryn.” I said simply, nudging Marc’s shoulder as we approached the shack.

            As we climbed the short incline to the beaten up deck, Brynjolf approached a man who stood lookout. The lookout just shook his head. “I’m just keeping watch. What you’re looking for is down inside.”

            “Appreciated, lad.” Brynjolf said, striding past him. Marc and I followed closely behind. He rounded the corner, making a few sly remarks to the lassies on the other side of the wall just before he opened a cellar door. Marc and I exchanged one more glance before we followed him down the small shaft on a rickety ladder.

            At the base of the climb, we found ourselves in a dimly lit room hallway. We took a set of stairs to be greeted by yet another watchman.

            “Hold it.” he said. “If you’re going downstairs, keep your weapons to yourself, or we’ll be gettin better acquainted.”

            I struggled to suppress a laugh as Brynjolf nodded to the man. “No trouble here, I assure you.”

            “Head on in, and behave yourself.” He opened the door for us.

It smelled of deceit and vomit at the foot of the stairs, which was really right up Bryn’s ally, but still very confusing. The room was even darker than the one we’d just come from, and all I could hear was coughing and wheezing. We followed Brynjolf to a sticky counter, where a woman wearing rather revealing clothes stood with a copy of The Lusty Argonian Maid in her hand.

            “Hi there.” Brynjolf greeted her, leaning against the nasty counter.

            She looked up from her book. “I’m sorry, can I help you with something?”

            “Actually, lass, I was wondering if we could get a room. I’ve got three in my party.”

            Marcurio tapped my elbow. I shrugged.

            She grinned, setting her book down. “Keep calling me ‘lass’ and I may be able to help you.” She glanced up at us. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before, have I? You can buy from me, then join any booth you’d like.”

            “Mmm.” Brynjolf mumbled, tracing the top of her hand with his index finger. “And about how much gold are we talkin’ here, lass? We’re all first timers, of course.”

            “First time, huh?” She looked up at me and Marc again before she produced three small viles. “Here’s a sample. Take a booth, and come back to me if it’s something you like.”

            Brynjolf took the vile, then nodded for us to follow him. We passed several rooms filled with bandits and soldiers, all strung out of their minds and laying across the floor. They coughed and sputtered, some were even crying.

            As we entered the booth at the very end of the hall to the left, Brynjolf made himself comfortable on one of the stools beside a bucket. I cleared my throat. “Uh, Bryn? Is that skooma?”

            “Aye.” he said with a smile, holding the vile up to the light to inspect the contents.

            “This is crazy, Brynjolf.” Marc said. “You brought us all the way down here to do skooma? There’s a dead man in the stall across from us.”

            “Shit, is there really?” Brynjolf said with an unfaltering grin. He stood from his seat and peaked around the corner. “You weren’t lyin’. Lad’s pushing daisies.”

            “I don’t have any desire to join him.” Marc said as he folded his arms across his chest. “Messala and I aren’t doing it.”

            Brynjolf raised an eyebrow. “Is that so, Mustache Boy?”

            I nodded my head from side to side, considering the options. “Well, I hate to say it, but I’m curious. I’m tryin’ it.”

            Bryn patted me on the back and handed me a vile, but Marcurio was simmering still. “Messala, I know that Brynjolf is a scum sack, and that’s sort of his shtick. But it’s not yours. You don’t have to do skooma to—”

            “The reason I brought you both here is because the three of us are hurting.” Brynjolf said rather abruptly. I hadn’t seen him lose his patience before, but this was as close as he’d come. “Messala is hurtin’ because Mercer Frey tried to kill him, and damn near succeeded. And even when he was still limpin’ around and lickin’ his wounds, he had no choice but to step up and lead the Guild out of the pile of shit Mercer left us in. The lad hasn’t even said his name, and it’s been _two years_.

            “And you, Marc. You’re hurtin’, too. Your lass leaves you so suddenly and hardly offers an explanation of why she’s goin’. You nearly drank yourself to death after she left, and if Messala and I hadn’t stopped you, you would have seriously hurt yourself or someone else without meanin’ to. You still don’t talk about her, and honestly, Messala and I can’t even remember her name.” I offered a confirming nod.

            Bryn sighed, staring down at the bottles in his hand. “And I—I just don’t know if I can forgive myself for that night at Irkngthand. I…I nearly killed Karliah, and I have nightmares about it sometimes. I can’t talk about it with Messala because I know that it hurts him to hear Mercer’s name.” I put my hand on his shoulder as he continued. “And I can’t talk to Karliah about it because she’s completely forgiven me, and I don’t deserve to be forgiven.

            “I just…wanted to have one night where the three of us could forget all of the bad we’ve dealt with and have some fun. I thought this was it, but maybe you’re right Marc.” He looked up at Marcurio, his face drained of all enthusiasm. “You don’t have to do skooma with us if you don’t want to. I just—I hope you were havin’ fun up until right now.”

            I looked down at Brynjolf, who had lowered himself to sit on the stool again. I couldn’t remember a moment like this before, where he had just outwardly spoken about his feelings. I didn’t know that he felt like he couldn’t talk to me about Irkngthand, and I didn’t know that I needed to talk about Snowveil and Mercer until that very moment. It was for that reason that I undid the lid to my bottle of skooma and held it in the air.

            “This is a Lad’s Night.” I said. “I’m doin’ skooma, and I’m goin’ to have a damned good time.” Bryn smiled slightly, undoing his lid and holding his bottle in the air too. “What’s it goin’ to be, Marc? Are you in?”

            Marcurio thought for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Then, he extended his palm to take a bottle from Brynjolf, and he followed suit in undoing the cap and holding it in the air. “Well, if Mustache Boy and the Scum Sack are doing it, I might as well.”

            Brynjolf really smiled then, pleased that his plans were officially in action. “Alright lads, first one to yack loses.” We all clinked bottles before we pressed them to our lips.

            “Bottoms up.” I added, just before I took the first swig.


	4. People Like Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he's thrown in the clunker for being a druggie, Messala reflects on some of the important things that have happened over the last few years. Later, Sapphire comes to break him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL HEY PALS
> 
> Sorry I never update this friggin story. I don't know why, but I really struggle with cannon now. I think it's because I strayed so far away from cannon with Before the Storm and I'd much rather just regale all of my original ideas. Henceforth, I decided to delete the flashback chapters and just stick to the years after Mercer's betrayal. 
> 
> Messala is a very dynamic character who requires a lot of thought and planning. Writing as Karalissa and Cassius and Arabella is pretty easy because there are pieces of myself in all of them, and if I channel that part of myself, the words just flow. Messala is different: I'm so unlike him, I get stuck when I try to write.
> 
> That being said, I've finally gotten some time to work on this dang story, and it's been ready to post for a hot minute, but I'm just getting around to it.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy. This is like a month or so after the Lad's Trip.

            I tapped the table with my index finger, silently asking Talen-Jei for another mug of fire to ease my turning stomach. He nodded to me, his eyes sympathetic from beneath heavy green lids, and he filled another tankard before he came to where I sat.

            He leaned down to me as he sat my mug on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you, Messala? This is your third drink, and you’re by yourself. I don’t want you to stumble out of here and drown in the lake.” He leaned in closer, looking up at the other patrons in his inn. “There’s an empty room upstairs if you want it for the night. I don’t know what you’re running from, but you can hide here if you need to.”

            I laughed without enthusiasm, exhaling sharply through my nose because I was endlessly impressed with Talen-Jei’s eternal giving. He and Keerava had let me live in the Bee and Barb’s basement for three months while I tried to get back on my feet after my brother and I were separated, and they never asked for a single coin. When Talen-Jei had found me laying on the side of the river outside of the walls of Riften, I’d been a day or two from death. In the years that passed since my brother had been taken, I had done the only thing I knew how to do: steal. Unfortunately, I’d stolen from a bandit camp, and a dozen bandits had tracked me down and beaten me as near to death as they could get me without killing me. They took the things I’d stolen and most of my personal possessions, including my father’s necklace and my boots, and left me in the river to die.

Talen had just happened to be strolling by after I’d been laying there for a few days. I was injured internally more than I was on the outside, my sun-blistered skin and broken bones painless compared to the aching that a man feels in his heart when he’s lost his will to live. Talen-Jei brought me back to Keerava and the two of them slaved over me for days, and they gave me a reason to keep going. I had a debt to repay, and I typically gave the two of them a share of my higher paying jobs.

Just to make him feel better, I conjured up the most of a smile I could manage. “I’ll be fine, Talen. I thank you, though.”

            Talen-Jei nodded, straightening and heading back to his sweeping in the corner. I sat by myself for a while after that, treading the surface of my thoughts and trying to stay above water. I didn’t have a distraction from the pain that night. Typically, when I was so down about life and the loved ones I’d lost, I threw myself into the company of others to occupy my mind until I came out of the funk. Bryn was in the Cistern that evening, trying to make plans of how to continue and speaking quietly with Karliah in the corner of the stone room I’d left them in. Marcurio was out with his lassie, doing whatever it was they did, reading or something. The only other person that I would want to spend time with was Mercer, and that was long past, now.

            As I thought the name, pain shot through my chest again. I had trusted him, spent time with him and talked to him about life and money and business. Mercer had been, after Bryn, the first person to really make me feel welcome in the Guild, and after four months, I considered him a good friend. I spent the majority of my time down in the dark with Brynjolf and Mercer, and I was beginning to think Mercer had chosen me as one of his favorites. He didn’t seem to care for anyone else in the Guild, and I saw his attention as a sign of affection, a display of comradery, even if it included half-hearted insults and mostly-playful banter.

            The previous night came back to me suddenly in flashes. I brought plans to Mercer. I traveled with Mercer to hunt for Karliah. I was paralyzed by an arrow, intended for Mercer’s flesh. I was stabbed in the gut, left for dead by the man I considered a friend. His words echoed in my head, pounding against my skull to the tempo of my quickening heartbeat.

            “It would seem Gallus’ history has repeated itself.” He laughed coldly, the sound heartless and more horrifying than I’d ever heard before. “Karliah has given me the means to be rid of you, and this ancient tomb becomes your final resting place.”

            I was paralyzed from the jaw down, but my eyes darted back and forth as I processed his words, a low moan the only thing I could get out when I tried to say his name. Mercer laughed again, shaking his head as I struggled to fight for life. “But do you know what intrigues me the most? The fact that this was all possible because of you.”

            He began to pace back and forth, a quickened pattern of step that made me uncomfortable even as I thought back on it, because it was almost as if he were fighting a voice in his own head. “I know it’s unfortunate, and I know that you thought we were friends, but there’s really no other way to do this now.” He shook his head at himself as he continued to pace. “I mean, I figured I’d have to kill you once this was all over, just to protect myself, but I figured I’d at least be able to go back home and tell the Guild that you died defending me. That you died with some dignity, instead of this…lump on the ground.” He laughed a madman’s cackle as he spoke the last words, his shoulders shaking as he did and bringing tears to his eyes. “My gods, you look so _weak_! So helpless!”

            He wiped his eyes as his laughter settled, his fingers grazing the hilt of his blade as he stopped moving. Mercer stood over me, staring down at me with a smile. “Don’t worry though, Messala. I’ll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards.”

            I shook my head, placing my hand over the long scar on my stomach. I could feel the raised pink flesh even through my armor, stretching about nine inches horizontally just above my belly button. He’d pierced a lung, left me drown in my own blood and parted with a smile on his face. I still didn’t know how Karliah had managed to heal me, but then again, I wasn’t really sure how much time had passed. I’d stopped counting the hours, blinded by the betrayal that stained my heart.

            The chair across from me slid across the floor, the pretty young lassie who spent most of her time up here taking the seat in front of me. She rested her bare elbows against the table, her sleeveless armor matching mine.

            “Sapphire.” I said, my voice monotone and expressing only acknowledgement.

            “Messala.” she said, an eyebrow raised. “You know Vekel gives out drinks for free in the Flagon, right?”

            I nodded, my lips pursed as I took a long swig from my own mug. “I’m well aware.”

            “So, why are you up here spending your coin when you could drink for free down there?”

            I scowled at her. “Maybe it’s because I didn’t want to be bothered by thieves for a little while.”

            Sapphire had laughed, throwing her head back as she did. “Oh, am _I_ bothering you?”

            “Yeah, you are actually.” I said, finishing my tankard and signaling Talen-Jei for another. Sapphire shook her head to the Argonian, a menacing look on her face that made him set the mug he was holding down and go back to sweeping. It infuriated me. “You got a problem, lassie? Leave me be.”

            She shook her head. “I’m not going to let you drown yourself in liquor.” she said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

            I blinked at her, trying to make some sense of why she was acting this way. “What do you want from me, Sapphire? You’ve never said more than two words to me, and now you want to keep me from drinkin’.” It was true. Before that moment, Sapphire and I had only spoken long enough for her to tell me to shove it up my ass. Whatever ‘it’ was. “I’m not your problem. I don’t need you babysittin’ me.”

            Sapphire stared at me, her blue eyes challenging me. “Are you just going to drink until the pain stops?”

            “That’s the plan.”

            She snorted. “Not anymore.” She turned to the bar. “No more for him, Talen-Jei. He’s had enough.”

            “Don’t listen to her, Talen! She doesn’t know what she’s on about.” I looked over my shoulder to him, but he just shook his head. “Damnit, Sapphire. Leave me alone. I didn’t come to a bar to talk.”

            “And that’s why you won’t drink in the Flagon?”

            “You’re damned right, lassie.” I said, lowering my brow. “And you’d be right to leave me alone.”

            “You don’t scare me, Messala, so cut the act.” she told me, shaking her head. “Might want to try something else.”

            Fine, then. I would. “Sapphire doesn’t sound like a real name.”

            “That’s not your business.” she said, staring me dead in the face.

            “Oh, but you’ve made my business yours. Why can’t I do the same?” I countered, leaning against my palm and propping my head up on my elbow. “Tell me, lassie. Why the name?”

            “Look,” she began, her voice lowering. “I don’t really know you. I don’t really know anyone here. Why do you care anyway? It’s not like we’re family. This is a business.”

            I scoffed. “Business, business, business. All of you damned thieves care about business. Where’s the story? Where’s the personality?” I ran my tongue over my top teeth behind closed lips, sizing up the expression on her face. “Somethin’ had to make you this angry. What is it?”

            The look on her face changed, transitioning from angry to hurt. “Look, you want to know about me? Fine. I’ll tell you.” She leaned toward me, trying to close as much distance between us as she could. “I’ll tell you all about a young girl, just barely out of her teens, living on a pig farm in the middle of nowhere. Didn’t have a coin to spend between our entire family. Ate the same slop we fed the livestock.”

            I laughed a little. I’d heard this story before, and I wasn’t impressed. “Oh, you’re breakin’ my heart, lassie.” I could tell that it had hurt her, my words. Her brow furrowed, set on being angry rather than upset.

            “Oh, wait.” she said, cocking her head to the side. “It gets better. How about the fact that our farm was attacked by bandits? That they killed my entire family, that we didn’t even brandish a weapon against them?” She smiled cruelly as my face fell. “Here’s the best part: They took me as a prize, and violated me for a fortnight. Tossed me from bandit to bandit like…like…”

            “You don’t have to continue.” I said, completely taken aback. For a moment, I’d thought she was just trying to get a reaction out of me. Her eyes betrayed her though, the tears that formed and she tried to blink away. Immediately, I felt guilty for pressing her.

            She shrugged, leaning back in her chair again. “It’s fine. Had to tell someone, I suppose.” She shook her head, laughing to herself. “Carrying around a weight like that…it hurts.”

            I leaned toward her, folding my arms on the table top. “How’d you get away?”

            “Over time, I managed to gain their confidence. Then one night, I grabbed a knife, waited until they fell asleep, and I cut their throats.” She smiled a little. “I never went back to that pig farm, you know. Nothing there for me anymore.”

            I nodded slowly, absorbing the immense amount of information she’d just given me. “But, why the name?”

            Sapphire spent a moment in silence, chewing the inside of her lip as she contemplated whether or not to speak. “I…I have nightmares. Sometimes about my mother calling my name to tell me supper is ready. Sometimes about the bandits whispering my name in my ear.” She shut her eyes and shook her head, the thoughts seeming to make her nauseous. “It’s just easier not to hear it anymore. Sapphire is a nickname Brynjolf gave me when I joined the Guild.” She smirked, just a little. “Said my eyes were like gemstones.”

            I smiled at her. “They are.” She blushed a little, the rosy tint of her cheeks making her eyes even brighter. “I grew up on a farm too, you know.” I told her.

            “Did you now?”

            “Aye. Not a pig farm, though. Corn and chickens and cabbage. Very high-class.” She laughed at that, knowing that was anything but true. “My parents did the farmin’ while my brother and I would play in the fields. That is, until the city found out that my parents were stealin’ crops from neighborin’ farms and sellin’ them as their own. We got thrown from the city, actually relocated to Skyrim.

            “We had another farm after that. I think it’s the Loreius Farm now, or one of the neighborin’ properties. When I was twelve, maybe, our parents caught some kind of influenza and didn’t survive it.”

            Sapphire nodded, understanding the pain of loss. “So, you two left, I assume.”

            “Well, we tried to run the farm ourselves for a while, but aye. We left. Bounced around and stole things for coin. Thievin’ has always been the only thing I’m good at.”

            “And where is your brother now?”

            Another wave of pain rippled in my chest, thinking about my little brother. I shook my head, looking away from Sapphire. “I got the bright idea to raid a cave. I wanted to save up some money and move back to Cyrodiil. There’s a fine for crossin’ the border, and then the cost of livin’ down there isn’t cheap.” I grew disgusted with myself, and I shook my head. “Laddie tried to tell me that it wasn’t a good idea, but I didn’t listen.

            “The cave was a vampire coven. They threw this…acid or poison in my face and blinded me. They took my brother and left me in the cave. I managed to crawl out through the dirt and some priestess found me, healed my sight.” I shook my head, pursing my lips. “I never found him. I draw they’ve either made him a thrall or gutted him by now.”

            “Damn.” Sapphire mumbled, nodding to me as if to indicate that she understood. “When…”

            “A long time ago.” I said, nodding to her just once. “Years.”

            She released a long sigh. “It’s kind of funny. I’m in here all the time, and I see you screwing around with Marcurio and Brynjolf, and I never say anything.”

            I shrugged to her. “It’s hard to say anything sometimes, and I know that. Especially for people like us.”

            “Like…us?” she asked, her eyes glistening. It was likely because she’d felt alone for a long time, and the word ‘us’ was a term of endearment.

            “Aye.” I said simply. “People like us, who’ve been alone for so long, we don’t know how to be together.”

            Sapphire just nodded, looking down at the table as she absorbed my words. After a minute or two, she looked at me again. “Do you have days where you’d rather have been killed too?”

            I didn’t have to think, because I already knew. “Aye. I do. Do you?”

            “Yeah.” she just stared back at me for a moment, and then she looked back to the bar. “Talen, I think we’ll actually have another round.”

 

*****

 

            I was startled from sleep when the cell door unlocked and creaked open. I shielded my eyes instinctually, though the cells in Mistveil Keep were barred and not reclusive. I rubbed at my eyes, trying to focus my sight since my eyes didn’t do their job properly to begin with, let alone after sleeping for an extended period of time.

            I expected to see a guard who’d brought me a meal, as they’d done twice a day for four days now. Instead, a blue-eyed lassie shut the cell door quietly behind her, slinking across the cell toward me. She lowered herself to lay on the dirty ground beside me, making herself comfortable against the cold stone and folding her hands across her stomach.

            She didn’t look at me, but instead at the ceiling. I knew she had to be angry with me for what I did, and so I didn’t reach for her hand even though my heart screamed that it longed to be close to her. It was cold in my cell, though, and I was shivering even in my long-sleeved Nightingale armor. Her armor was sleeveless, and I knew she had to be cold, though her jaw was set and she refused to acknowledge it, so I wiggled toward her and draped my ratty blanket across her legs and stomach before scooting back to my spot.

            Things were quiet for a long time, the silence of the room louder than our breathing combined. The little light that trickled through the bars of the cell reflected off of her blue eyes as she stared at the ceiling, and I knew that she could feel me watching her because she never relaxed. The four days I’d spent in the hole had been the most time we’d spent apart in a very long time, and I’d missed her terribly.

            “Sapph.” I finally whispered, reaching out to brush her forearm with my fingertips. She turned toward me, her eyes conflicted because she missed me, but she wanted to talk about the lock-up before anything else. I smiled stupidly. “You broke into jail for me, lassie.”

            Sapphire exhaled sharply, shaking her head at my words as her gaze returned to the ceiling. “And how stupid am I?” she asked, her voice the same volume as mine had been. “I came to break an idiot out of jail.”

            “Well, stupid and idiot go together quite nicely, if you’re askin’ me.” I offered.

            She shot me a look that could kill. “I’m not asking.” She shook her head at me. “Messala, why are you doing drugs?”

            I sighed for a long time, shutting my eyes. “I didn’t mean to get hooked, Sapph. Bryn and Marc and I did it as a goof, just to try it. I didn’t know I was goin’ to…like it so _much_.”

            “But…why?” she asked me, her voice not even a whisper anymore. It was just breathing, really, mouthing the words around her exhaling. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

            Part of me was surprised that she knew I was using, but the rest of me said ‘of course she knows, you idiot’. It may have been easy to make excuses for why I was sneaking off to the caravans outside of the city and keeping to myself, but I couldn’t hide the physical signs of regularly doing skooma. I couldn’t make an excuse for why my face had broken out in blisters and I was sweating near constantly. I couldn’t conceal the fact that I didn’t sleep for days, and when I came down from the high, I crashed into unconsciousness for about sixteen hours. I couldn’t tell her why I’d lost a serious amount of weight, and I already wasn’t much in the way of muscles. I couldn’t explain why I had to scratch my skin when I felt like there were snakes gliding over my flesh.

            And so I sighed. “I can’t stop now, Sapph. It hurts when I stop.”

            “Well it’s going to hurt if you keep doing it.” she said, her brow furrowed in anger and confusion. “Because I’ll hurt you if you touch that shit again. I don’t care how long it takes to make you feel better, and I don’t care if it’s easier to keep doing it. I won’t watch this anymore, Messala. I can’t.”

            I knew she was right, so I nodded as my gaze returned to the ceiling. “Okay, Sapph. I’ll stop.”

            “That wasn’t what I meant, though.” she whispered after a moment of silence. “ _Why_ are you doing this to yourself?”

            I ran my tongue over my chapped lips. “You know why.”

            “I don’t know why, and no one will tell me.” Sapphire said, her voice cracking slightly in the middle. I turned toward her again, the sound combined with the tears in her eyes breaking my heart. Sapphire had been through a colossal amount of bullshit, and still, she never expressed any sadness toward the life she had before she found the Guild. To see her look so defeated killed me.

            Finally, I reached for her. “Sapph…”

            “No, Messala.” she said harshly, yanking away from me. “I’ve never been angrier with you in my entire life. I’ve never been so…” She grit her teeth, shaking her head as she willed herself to be emotionless. “I’m stuck, Messala. I’m stuck and I’m so angry with you for it.”

            “Stuck?” I asked slowly, entirely unsure of what she meant.

            She laughed quietly, more at herself than my obliviousness. “I didn’t know you were down here until a few hours ago. I get back from a job, and Brynjolf tells me that you’re down here because you were using and carrying in the city, and he’s intent on making you stay and ‘sweat it off’. And the first thing I wanted to do was come down here and pay to let you come home. I’m a thief, Messala. I wanted to pay someone for you to be let out, even though I knew the first thing you would do is find more skooma.

            “I’m not angry that you’re doing drugs, Messala. You could kill a man in front of me for no reason, and I wouldn’t care.” Sapphire shook her head at me, blinking repeatedly to stop the tears. “I can’t help you fix this, fix yourself, if you don’t tell me why you’re hurting. I can’t heal you if I don’t know what’s broken.”

            “I don’t need you to fix me, Sapphire.”

            “But I need you to be fixed.” she said quietly, her voice so soft that I almost didn’t hear her. “I need you, Messala. I need you because I’m stuck, and I’m stuck because you’re you. And you’re…you’re wonderful, Messala. You’re kind, and you’re loving, and you’re giving. But you’re also the stupidest man I’ve ever met, and if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you.”

            I was awestruck at her words because even though I loved her, I’d never told her. We weren’t the people who said things to each other, and that’s how it always had been. I knew she cared for me, but to see her so upset at the fact that I was in pain and she couldn’t understand why hurt more than the pain I already felt.

            And so, I nodded, and I couldn’t contain a sob as it ripped from my chest. “I miss him.” I admitted, lifting my head off of the ground just enough to let it drop back with a smack. “I miss Mercer, and I hate myself for it.”

            Sapphire lifted her hand to place it against the side of my head, cradling my skull as I struggled to stifle my sobs. “I hate that I trusted him, and I hate that I called him a friend. I hate that I confided so much in him, and that I can’t sleep because I dream about the things that happened. I hate him, Sapph. I hate him for what he did to Karliah and Bryn and all of us, but I miss him.

            “He was my friend, Sapph. He was good when he was good, before he was bad. He was smart and sarcastic, and I could relate to him. How could I relate to someone like him? How could I see so much of myself in a man who tried to kill me? How can I miss a murderer?” I shook my head as the tears rolled down my face. “And gods, Sapph, I miss my brother. He was the greatest person I’ve ever known, and I can’t put him to rest because I don’t know what happened. I don’t know if he’s dead or if he’s in Skyrim somewhere with the vampires, and if he’s out there, I don’t know if he’s my brother anymore.

            “I wanted to die before I found the Guild. I wanted death, and I welcomed it gladly. When the years passed and I couldn’t find him, I did stupid things to get myself killed. I taunted big Nords and took beatings for it, and I stole from people and left a sloppy trail in hopes they would find me. And when a group of bandits left me for dead, I lied in the river and I waited for days to die. I stopped feelin’ that way after Talen-Jei found me, and I found the Guild, but it took a long time to force away. And it’s back now, the feelin’, and I’m so tired of feelin’ like this. I’m so tired of wantin’ it to end.

            “It’s killin’ me, Sapph. The pain is killin’ me, and the skooma stops the pain. For just a minute, it’s gone, and I need that minute because I can’t bear the pain anymore.” I placed my hand over hers, still firm against the side of my face. “I need it to stop, Sapph. I can’t do it anymore.”

            Sapphire wrapped her arms around my torso, laying her head against my shoulder and remaining silent while I cried. She didn’t say a word to me, but instead trailed her fingers across my upper arm and waited for me to speak.

            “I’m sorry.” I finally whispered, coiling my arms around her and pressing my mouth against her forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

            She nodded. “It’s okay.”

            “It’s not okay.” I said, my lips brushing against her hairline. “The way I’m actin’ is not okay.”

            “It is okay, because we’re going to fix it.”

            I shook my head. “You don’t have to do that, Sapphire. It’s not on you to fix me.”

            “I know that.” Sapphire said, tilting her head to look at me. “But I’m going to do it anyway.”

            “Because you’re stuck.” I added, smiling a little.

            She did, too. “Yes. Because I’m stuck.”

            I shut my eyes because I knew that was her way of telling me she loved me, and I wanted that to be a moment I remembered forever. “I love you, Sapphire. I always have.”

            And though I didn’t look, I knew she rolled her eyes. Even still, I felt her smile. “I know.”


	5. It's Not You, It's Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Messala has a heart-to-heart with Vekel about Tonilia, who they both suspect is up to no good with Brynjolf. Shortly after, Messala has some words of wisdom for Bryn.

            “Why don’t you ever offer me any of _your_ jobs, Vekel?” I asked casually, genuinely curious for the most part, but really just wanting the coin. I imagined that running one of Vekel’s jobs came with a fair amount of coin for my silence, and it couldn’t be too hard because he had Dirge doing most of the work, and Dirge was about as sharp as a spoon.

            Vekel raised an eyebrow at me, looking up from where he was crouched behind the bar. “Do you want the truth?”

            “Aye.”

            “I was going to offer you a few jobs, since you seem to be able to talk your way out of anything you can get into.” Vekel laughed to himself. “But Sapphire threatened to…hurt me in ‘unimaginable ways’ if I tried to give you any work.”

            I snorted. “Why’d she say that?”

            “Probably doesn’t want you on skooma again.” Vekel said, and I nodded in agreement. It had been a few months since I’d been arrested for using and carrying in the city, and I wasn’t about to get back into a situation like that.

            Perched on top of the barrel next to the bar, a mug in one hand and the other tucked under my leg, I sat quietly and watched as Brynjolf followed Tonilia around the corner to one of the secluded parts of the Flagon, no more than fifty paces behind her. I tried to conceal a smirk, because for a thief, Bryn wasn’t very sneaky.

            I turned to my left, looking down at Vekel wiping the shelves beneath the bar top with a rag. He hadn’t seen anything, which is what concerned me most. Vekel and Tonilia had been very open about their relationship for a long time. Vekel had even publicly proposed to her once or twice. Each time, Tonilia turned him down, telling him she didn’t need him to take care of her.

            I always felt bad for the laddie. Vekel wore his heart on his sleeve and Tonilia was quick to stomp on him. Recently, though, she’d been sneaking off with Brynjolf later in the day, and though I didn’t have proof of what they were doing, the tangled hair and blushed cheeks were enough to give me an idea of sorts.

            “Aye, Vekel.” I said, tapping the bar with the side of my foot. “Do you ever leave the Flagon? There’s a whole world outside that you’re missin’.”

            He laughed, grumbling his response as he continued to wipe the bar down. “What’s the point in leaving if I have to come right back here?”

            “That’s a negative outlook if I ever heard one.” I said, lifting one of my legs and resting my foot on the barrel. I leaned around my bent leg to look at him. “You should see the town. Come on, I’ll take you out, we can meet some lassies.”

            “We both have women, Messala.”

            I intertwined my fingers against my shin, watching Vekel as he stood and grabbed a broom. “You got me there, laddie. We could get some drinks, then.”

            “There’s liquor here. This is a bar.” He gave me a curious sideways glance.

            I groaned. “Then I’ll take you to meet my friend Marcurio. You’d like him.”

            “I’m fine here, Messala.” Vekel said, sweeping the dirt on the floor in circles.

            “You’re borin’ here.” I said, hopping off of the barrel and snatching the broom from him. He protested, but I didn’t let him speak. “You spend every day of your life in this damned dark hole. We need to get you out into the sun, the fresh air. You spend your days, sweepin’ the floor and pourin’ our drinks, but you never take some time for yourself.”

            “He’s right, Vekel.” Delvin said from the table beside us. “You ought ta leave the bar for a day. Take your lady out, take a holiday. You’re getting dark down here.”

            Vekel stared between both of us, not sure who to address first. He settled for Delvin. “Listen here, you lazy-tongued Breton. I’m not dark, I’m a bartender. I tend bars. This is _my_ bar, and if you don’t like my being here, go somewhere else. The bar would probably smell a lot nicer if you left.”

            I couldn’t contain guffaws of laughter, erupting from deep within my gut and unaffected by the glare of death Delvin gave me. Vekel turned to me, snatching the broom from my hands. “And _you_ are a stupid, cocky, sweaty sock who talks too much, and half the time I can’t understand what you’re saying. I don’t want to go out and meet your friend, because any friend of yours probably doesn’t make much sense either.”

            As Delvin laughed, just as loudly as I had at him, I placed my arm around Vekel’s shoulders. “You’re a cannie numpty, Vekel.”

            Vekel shook my arm from his shoulders. “See? I don’t even know what that means.”

            “It means you’re smart and stupid, laddie. Why are you so wound up?”

            Delvin and I watched as Vekel’s eyes roamed the room, ensuring that he wouldn’t be heard. Vex sat on the dock, making conversation with Dirge, and wasn’t likely to hear us. He leaned sat down at the table with Delvin, and I hopped up to sit on the bar top and listen in.

            Vekel looked down at the table, a contagiously sad look on his face. “Do you two think Tonilia loves me?”

            Delvin and I shared a glance, both of us silently agreeing to lie. “I mean, sure Vekel.” Delvin said. “She’s with ya, ain’t she?”

            “Sure, she’s with me, but does that mean she loves me?”

            “Aye, Vekel. Don’t think like that, laddie.” I said, trying to bring him some variation of comfort.

            “Well, it’s hard not to when she sneaks off with Brynjolf every time she thinks I’m not looking.” Vekel shook his head, then dropped his head on the table with an audible thud. “She thinks I don’t notice but I do.”

            I hopped off of the bar top, squatting next to Vekel to level with him. “Listen, laddie. You need to ask her about it if it’s botherin’ you. Don’t let it fester.”

            “Messala’s right, Vekel.” Delvin added. “Talk to her.”

            Vekel looked up at me, then Delvin, then back to me. “Do you think that’s a good idea? What if I don’t like the answer?”

            I patted his back. “Tell you what. If you get an answer you like, then that’s the end of it. And if you don’t, I’ll take you out and we’ll find a lassie for you. We’ll get absolutely smashed and wreck the town. Sound right?”

            Vekel thought for a moment, then he smiled a little. “Alright.”

            I patted his back, then stood and strode toward the direction Bryn and Tonilia had wandered off to. Normally, I tried not to involve myself in other people’s business, unless I was trying to be funny. This time, though, it was actually upsetting me to see Vekel so down.

            Vekel and I had never been friends, per say, but he’d always been more than nice to me. After dropping a few comments about how I didn’t look like much to him when I first arrived, he’d always offer me a free drink and give me errands to run when I got bored. In return, I’d always take his side in an argument, no matter what the fight was about.

            Brynjolf, on the other hand, had been my friend since the moment I met him, and I’d always known that he was somewhat of a…ladies man. There wasn’t a woman in Riften he hadn’t been able to woo, aside from a rare few, and it was his whole gimmick. It was who he was. But he’d been digging himself deep with Tonilia, and it was bound to blow up in his face sooner or later. As a friend, I assumed it was my job to talk some sense into him.

            I rounded the corner to the doorway that led into the Ratway, and I pushed the door open slowly. As I climbed the stairs to the room beyond, I caught sight of Brynjolf and Tonilia sucking face in the darkened corner of the room. Inwardly, I applauded him, but outwardly, I was silent.

            I cleared my throat, causing Tonilia to jerk away from Bryn and straighten her shirt. She stared at me wordlessly, her eyes pleading for my silence and understanding that I should tell. Before she could say anything, I raised an eyebrow. “Vekel is looking for you.”

            She swallowed, stealing a glance back at Brynjolf, who had simply leaned back against the wall to watch the scene before him unfold, a smile ever present on his face. Tonilia turned back to me. “Does he know? Is that why he’s looking for me?”

            “Aye.” I said, pursing my lips. “Vekel knows.”

            Tonilia nodded slowly, then staggered past me and toward the Flagon. Brynjolf craned his neck to watch her leave. “Come find me after, Ton.” he called, earning nothing but silence in return as she stole back into Vekel’s bar. Then, he turned to me. “Spoiling my good time, lad.”

            I hopped up to sit on the table in the center of the room, crossing my legs on the table top and leaning toward him. “What are you doin’, Bryn? You’re practically askin’ to get decked in the face.”

            He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

            “Vekel is your friend, laddie.” I reminded him. “How can you do this to a friend?”

            Brynjolf sighed, sliding down the wall and sitting on the floor. “It’s not like I went out of my way to flag her down, Messala. She practically asked me why I never came onto her, like she was offended or somethin’.”

            “So you start foolin’ around with her because she asked you to?”

            “Well…” Brynjolf began. “She told me she was goin’ to leave Vekel. Said she didn’t love him the way he loved her and it was suffocatin’ her. And she said she’d always fancied me.”

            I furrowed my brow. “But she never left him, Bryn.”

            “I know that.” he said quietly. “It’s just…nice to feel wanted, I suppose. To have a lass make advances toward me instead of makin’ advances toward her. I didn’t…I didn’t know the lass was in love with me.”

            “Tonilia is in love with you?” I whisper-yelled, trying to keep my voice low and still express the shock I felt. “Bryn, what the hell?”

            “She just told me a few days ago, lad.” Brynjolf whispered. “I didn’t know until a few days ago.”

            “Bryn, this is bad.” I said, shaking my head. “You’re breakin’ Vekel’s heart.”

            “And I have to break Ton’s heart, too. I don’t love her, Messala. I never did.”

            I let my head fall back in exasperation. “Then why do you keep foolin’ around with her, laddie?”

            Brynjolf readjusted in his seated position. “Do you…do you even know me, Messala? I’m scum. This is what I do.”

            “You’re not scum, Bryn.” I said. “You’re a lot of things, but you’re not scum.”

            He laughed wickedly. “I am scum. Everyone thinks it. I’m the man who steals, coin and women alike. I treat women like shit and then I leave them after they sleep with me. It’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done.”

            “But why, lad?” I asked. “Why keep doin’ it if you don’t like the way it looks.”

            “Because it’s what’s easy, Messala. It’s all I know how to do.” He looked away from me, knocking his head against the wall lightly as if to reiterate that he was disappointed in himself. “I don’t…I don’t commit because I don’t want to. Committin’ is too hard.”

            I waited a moment, then I asked what was on my mind. “What would Karliah think, lad? Have you thought about that?”

            Brynjolf’s breathing stopped for a moment, and then he laughed quietly. He looked back at me, and though the room was dark and his face was shadowed, I swear I saw tears form in his eyes before he blinked them away. “Karliah doesn’t care what I do, Messala.”

            “You don’t know that, Bryn.” I tried to reassure. “You haven’t been to see her in a long time.”

            Brynjolf laughed again, reaching up to wipe his cheek with the back of his wrist after making a conscious decision to reveal that he was shedding a tear. “Messala, she always loved Gallus, and you know that. She still loves him. That’ll never change.” He laughed again, a cold and hollow laugh. “It doesn’t matter how much love I have for her. Even if she wanted to try, she’d never love me the way she loved Gallus.”

            He wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t already figured out, but I still asked to protect his pride. “You’re in love with Karliah?” I tried to convey a tone of shock.

            He was silent for a moment. “I’ve always loved her. Since the day I met her, I loved her. But she always loved Gallus, and I understood why. Gallus was a good man with a good heart, and I’m not.” He shook his head. “I try to love them, Messala. I really do. I tried to love Haelga, and I tried to love Tonilia, just as I’ve tried to love every other woman I’ve been with. But none of them are her. None of them are Karliah, and that just makes it worse when I see her. It’s why I can’t go see her, because the guilt in my chest is too much for me to take.

            “So, I might as well keep screwin’ around because there’s nothing else for me to lose. I can’t lose what I never had in the first place.” He grit his teeth, tapping his head against the wall for a final time as he looked away from me again. Bryn very rarely bared his soul to me, or anyone for that matter, and when he did, he typically expected me to tease him for it.

            Instead, I released a sigh. “Well, maybe you should tell her how you feel, lad. You’ll never know for sure unless you do.”

            Brynjolf was silent for a moment, a very long moment, before he looked back toward me. “How did you know, Messala?”

            “Know what?”

            “How did you know that Sapphire was the one for you?” he asked. “How did you…how did you know she loved you back?”

            I raised my brows. “I didn’t.”

            Brynjolf was confused. “Well then…how are you where you are now? How are you together?”

            I exhaled for a long time, blinking twice before I began to speak. “I always thought she was pretty, of course. I mean, who doesn’t? But I didn’t develop any feelings for her until we actually began to talk to each other, more than just in passin’. And the more I spent time with her, the more I loved her.” I laughed quietly. “She’s not the type to need to hear it, but I haven’t told her nearly as often as I should. And I think she loves me, too. She must, because I can’t think of any other reason she would tolerate my bad jokes and my stupid attempts to flirt with her.

            “As far as us bein’ together, I don’t have a real answer. There was just a day where we began to hold hands, and then there was a day when we kissed for the first time, and we were just…together after that.” I shook my head again. “It’s easier for us to be together than it is to be apart, or even just close to one another. I need her, and she knows I need her. That’s just it.”

            Brynjolf nodded. “Sapphire loves you, lad. It’s obvious.” He sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment. “Do you think…do you think if I spent more time with Karliah, she might love me too?”

            “There’s only one way to find out.” I said.

            “And I know that.” Bryn said quietly. “And I want to spend time with her because I miss her every day. I’m just worried that if I spend more time with her, I might fall in love with her even more than I already have, and she still may not love me back.”

            “Isn’t it better to love her and know that she’ll never love you back than to love her and never know that she could love you too?” I asked, silently patting myself on the back for coming up with something so relatable to say.

            Brynjolf was speechless for a moment. “You know…maybe you’re right, Messala. Maybe I should just…go see her. Maybe I should go see her right now.”

            I cocked my head to the side. “Sure, sure.” I cleared my throat. “Or, maybe after all of this stuff with Vekel and Tonilia blows over.”

            Brynjolf stood. “I don’t think I can wait, lad.” He brushed off his pants and ran a hand through his hair. “If I wait too long, I’ll talk myself out of it.” He outstretched his arms. “How do I look?”

            I nodded to him. “You look really nice, Bryn.”

            He raised an eyebrow playfully. “Aye now, don’t tell me you’ve got the hots for me, too.” Bryn walked toward me. “I know I just poured my heart out to you and all, but that doesn’t mean I feel anything for you.” He leaned against the table beside me. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just in love with someone else. I hope we can still be friends.”

            I patted his back as I hopped off of the table. “Go talk to your lassie, Bryn. Come find me after.” He smirked before he turned on his heel, leaving through the Ratway instead of the Flagon, likely to avoid Vekel in the bar.

I smiled to myself, shaking my head as I returned quietly to the Flagon, genuinely curious to see what was going on inside. To my disappointment, the place was utterly quiet, nothing out of the ordinary to catch my eye as I walked across the bridge, patting Dirge on the back as I passed him.

            After a moment, Vekel rounded the corner, dressed a bit nicer than he usually was. When he saw me, he stopped, scratching the back of his neck. His jaw was clenched, a sign that he’d already spoken to Tonilia because Vekel was typically very relaxed.

            “Everything alright?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

            Vekel released a long sigh, then he sort of smiled. “Still want to go out and grab that drink?”

            I smirked, nodding to him because that was answer enough for me. “Ready when you are.”


	6. At Least, That's My Sales Pitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Messala hopes Marcurio can help Vekel feel a little better after he ended things with Tonilia. Vekel and Marc kind of hit it off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic only gets updated when I hate Karalissa! That's today.
> 
> Enjoy!

     Vekel sat with his jaw clenched, both of his hands wrapped around the mug of mead in front of him. He stared blankly at the counter top, his eyes distant because he was anywhere but in the bar. Every few minutes, his eyes would tear up, but he was quick to blink them away.

     I leaned against the bar beside him. “So, laddie, you ever been here before?”

     Vekel cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Once. I snuck in with some other kids from Honorhall when I was young.”

     “Ah.” I said, unsure of how to respond to that. I scratched my sideburns. “Uh, well, Keerava and Talen-Jei own the joint.” I pointed to the corner of the room. “That’s Talen, there, and Keerava is either runnin’ errands or sleepin’.”

     “Mhm.” was all Vekel responded with.

     I sighed, hopping up to sit on the counter beside him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

     He inhaled for a long time, then exhaled the same way. “She’s in love with Brynjolf.” he said casually, as if it weren’t the great shock it should have been. “She said that I suffocate her, and if I would just ease up, she would try to love me again.”

     I knew she loved Bryn because he’d told me before in the Ratway, but I was surprised to hear that Ton would stay with Vekel. “So, uh, what did you tell her?”

     Vekel sighed again. “I ended it.” He took a long swig of his drink. “I don’t…I don’t want to be anyone’s second choice. I want to be…loved. I don’t want to wonder.”

     I patted his back, clearing my throat as the door opened behind me. I turned to see Marc, returning from some sort of job by the look of it. He was angrily pulling his hair back with a tie, muttering profanities under his breath. 

     “Aye, Marc!” I shouted, feeling a grin stretch across my face. “Give me just a moment, lad.” I said to Vekel, who nodded and went back to staring at the wall.

     I trotted toward Marc, who was still aggressively tying his hair back. He looked up at me. “Hey, Messala.”

     “Marc! I need your help, laddie.” I announced quietly.

     His brow furrowed. “With what?”

     I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, turning him to face the bar and gesturing to the broken-hearted Nord with my free arm. “This is Vekel. He owns the Flagon, and he just ended things with his lassie.”

     Marc raised an eyebrow. “And what do you need my help for?”

     “Well, I was hoping you would talk to him. Maybe level with him, tell him you understand because you felt the same way when what’s-her-face left you.”

     “Karalissa.” Marc noted matter-of-factly.

     “Sure.” I said, waving the name off. “He needs to talk to someone who knows what it’s like to lose a lass he loves, and I can’t help him.”

     He was really confused, then. “Why can’t you just do it? I have shit to take care of, Messala.”

     I groaned loudly, knowing he wouldn’t help without incentive. Marcurio was a bit of a lone wolf, someone who needed a bit of coaxing to get him out of his shell. I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “I’ve never lost a lass.”

     Marc blinked, and then a smile creeped up his face. “What, you mean you’ve never been with a girl before Sapphire?” His eyes darted to Sapphire, who was talking quietly to Talen-Jei in the corner. His gaze caught her attention.

     “Shut up.” I said quickly, shaking my head and turning him away from her. 

     Marc cackled with laughter. “Sapphire, are you hearing this?”

     “Shut up, Marc!” I grumbled through my teeth, socking him in the shoulder quickly with my closed fist.

     “Agh! Ouch! Alright! Alright!” Marc said with a bit of muffled humor. He rubbed his shoulder. “By the Eight, why didn’t you say anything before? My gods, man, you’re thirty years old!”

     “I swear to Nocturnal, laddie, if you don’t stop flappin’ your gums…”

     Marc laughed again, his voice dropping even lower. “Messala, have you kissed a girl other than her?”

     I gripped the collar of Marcurio’s robes, pulling his face toward mine. “Listen here, you damned wizard,” I began in a harsh whisper. “Sapphire is the first and only woman I have ever loved. So sorry that you think it’s funny.”

     Marc pressed his lips together, struggling to suppress a laugh. “It’s not funny.”

     “If you tell her—no, if you tell  _ Brynjolf _ , I will kill you.” I said sternly, glaring at him to convey the seriousness of my words. “I’m not jokin’.”

     Something changed in Marc’s expression, and he rolled his eyes. “Alright. Fine. You have my silence.” I nodded as I released him, and he brushed off the front of his shirt to straighten it out. “Now, who is this man I’m talking to?”

     I smirked, nodding for him to follow me toward the bar. I leaned against the counter, facing the moping lad. “Vekel, this is Marcurio. Marcurio, Vekel the Man.”

     Vekel set his drink down, extending his hand toward the newcomer. “Nice to meet you, Marcurio. Messala talks about you a lot.”

     Marcurio rolled his eyes. “Everyone calls me ‘Marc’. You might as well, too.” He raised an eyebrow. “I hope I don’t have to address you as ‘Vekel the Man’. It’s quite a mouthful.”

     I started to make a dirty joke, but I couldn’t get it out before the conversation continued. “Just ‘Vekel’ is fine.” Vekel said quietly, just before he cleared his throat. He seemed a bit taken aback by the fact that Marcurio had simply ignored Vekel’s handshake, and he awkwardly placed his hand back on his mug. “Uh, so you live here?”

     “Oh, yes.” Marc began, reaching behind the counter for a mug, then filling it up for himself from across the counter. I raised an eyebrow at him because he hadn’t had a drink in a very long time, but he just shrugged at me. “I’ve lived here for…maybe five years? Six? Eight? I don’t know.”

     Vekel nodded. “And, what do you do?”

     “I’m a mercenary.” Marc explained. “With a master of magic at your side, you’ll have nothing to worry about.” He paused to laugh a little, taking a hesitant sip of his drink. “At least, that’s my sales pitch.”

     “Sales pitch, eh?” Vekel asked, an eyebrow raised. “Does that seem to work for you?”

     Marc snorted. “I would say so. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s talking people into shit they don’t need to pay for.”

     “It’s true.” I interjected. “He once talked Bryn into buyin’ a pair of women’s shoes. We still don’t know what he did with them, but Bryn paid for them.”

     Vekel smiled, just a little, for the first time that night. “You spend a lot of time with Brynjolf and Messala.” he said, directing the comment toward Marc. “How do you keep your sanity? Brynjolf is sleazy and Messala’s voice makes my head hurt.”

     “Yes, the accent is a bit…well, you have to get used to it.” Marc said.

     “I’m standin’ right here, you know.” I grumbled.

     Marc smirked. “Well, no offense, or anything.” He turned back to his conversation. “To answer your question, Vekel, I lost my sanity long before I met them, so I enjoy spending my free time with Mustache Boy and the Scum Sack.”

     My hand shot to my upper lip as Vekel laughed quietly. “I hate that nickname.”

     They ignored me. Vekel shook his head. “And what is it they do that could be so entertaining? You don’t seem to be quite…their type.”

     “Their type?” Marc laughed. “They’re lucky to have me. I have to think for the both of them.”

     “It’s the truth.” I sighed, finally gaining a bit of attention. “Bryn and I got a little…misplaced a few weeks ago—”

     “Admit it!” Marcurio called, laughing loudly. Vekel gave him a smile that confused me. “You were lost without me.”

     “Aye, we were lost.” I sighed. “Anyway, Marc guided us out of a cave. I have a bit of a phobia of caves, and Bryn was drunk. Honestly, we probably would have been down there a while without him.”

     Vekel smirked. “So, you’re a glorified tour guide? You lead them out of caves and carry their bags when they get too heavy?”

     “Wow.” Marc clutched his chest in mock offense. “Your words hurt me, Vekel the Man. I am an apprentice wizard, not a pack mule.”

     “Sure, sure.” Vekel said, raising his eyebrows. “Whatever gets you to sleep at night.”

     Marcurio snorted, shaking his head as he took another small sip of his drink. He seemed almost offended by the taste after going so many years without indulging his inner alcoholic. “What is it you do?”

     Vekel nodded, his smile fading. “I own the Ragged Flagon.”

     Marc sort of cocked his head to the side. “So, you’re surrounded by drunken thieves all day, too?”

     “Oh, aye. Night and day.”

     “Interesting.” Marc said, leaning against his palm, which was propped up on his elbow on the countertop. “And how is that working out for you?”

     Vekel exhaled sharply. “Well, I’m up here instead of down there, if that gives you any insight.”

     “And why is that?” Marcurio asked, looking at me, then at Sapphire, then at me, then at Sapphire again. It was a silent way of telling me to go away, and I took the hint.

     I pushed off of the counter and moved toward Sapphire, who was leaning against the wall of her usual spot, arms folded across her chest. I hopped up on the dresser beside her, leaning down to quickly peck her on the lips. She smiled at me when I sat up straight again. 

     “I think Vekel stole Marcurio from you.” she said slyly, her blue eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “Do you plan to fight for him?”

     “Nah.” I said simply. “Vekel needs the company.”

     “What’s he doing up here, anyway?” Sapphire asked, her brow furrowing. “He never leaves the Flagon, not even for groceries.”

     I sighed, rubbing my face with my hands. “He ended things with Ton.”

     Her eyes widened. “What?”

     “Aye. He’s a wreck, so I brought him out to talk to Marc.”

     “Oh, you mean because you know nothing about break ups?”

     I groaned, which earned a quiet laugh from the pretty lassie beside me. “Does everyone know?”

     “Everyone assumed.” she said with a shrug. “You just confirmed.”

     “Who is ‘everyone’?” I asked.

     Sapphire just shrugged again, a playful smile decorating her face. “Everyone.”

     I released a long sigh. “Well, that’s just great.” I leaned down to kiss the side of her face. "Promise you won't think too lowly of me?"

     She rolled her eyes, but she nodded. "I promise."


End file.
